


Without Anesthesia

by rlb190



Series: George O'Malley is not dead [1]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alex deserves more, Denial of Feelings, Fake Character Death, George is alive, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Let Me Live My Life, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Torture, george o'malley is alive, interns unite!, jo doesn't exsist, more tags as I think of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-04-23 22:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rlb190/pseuds/rlb190
Summary: It's been ten years since George O'Malley was declared dead. It's been exactly three minutes and twenty-seven seconds since Alex Karev was made aware that George O'Malley was not actually dead. Faced with his past and the things he's left behind, George had to make some sense of what happened to him, and what will happen now. Complete!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dun dun dun I'm back. I know, I know. But I actually finished this whole thing. I was supposed to be a one shot but the next thing I know... i'll try to hold past and post a chapter every 24 hours... It's about season 14 time, but Jo's not here because reasons. I've always had this idea in my brain about a bad ass George but then he died on the show and i was like 'well that's not okay'. I also really like the team-B interns so some of them are in this. I believe ins the Alex karev deserves nice things squad. head up; it's gonna get pretty dark.

    Meredith Grey knew she was going to have a bad day when she woke up.

 

            She halfway expected to be in her own bed and turn around to face her husband, still sleeping peacefully. She would look his weathered face as he would open eyes...

 

          But instead, she woke up in the dim on-call room, wearing her scrubs from the previous night before, shoes still on, a horrible pain in her neck from an awkward sleeping position. Meredith shivered in the cool room as she got out of the cot and fumbled through her overnight bag, shrugging into new scrubs and underwear. She rubbed her eyes, recalling the five-car pile up victims that had been rushed into the hospital a few minutes after victims from an apartment fire were brought in.  It had been one emergency after the other, she couldn't have gone home even if she tried. She vaguely recalled asking Arizona to watch the kids while she was elbows deep in somebody's chest cavity, repairing a torn aorta.

 

        She took a deep breath and walked out the door into the bright lights of the hospital, heading directly to the break room to get a cup of coffee. There were just some days you couldn't win them all.

        She was leaning on the counter, waiting for the pot of coffee to finish when Alex walked in, looking as tired as Meredith was, rubbing his eyes. He had been with her, by her side, attending to patients late into the night and early into the morning. He had gotten as much sleep as she did, maybe less, considering his recent bout of insomnia.

 

                  "Hey."

 

                  "Hey."

 

         The coffee finished and Meredith grabbed two paper cups and poured the steaming liquid into each, handing one to Alex before adding a more-than-enough-to-be-healthy amount of sugar into her own. Alex raised his eyebrows at her and Meredith returned the look with a frown.

 

"It's been a long night." 

 

 Alex gave a shrug. "Not judging."

 

 Meredith couldn't help but snort. "I think it's a little late for that."

 

            Meredith took a sip of the coffee, which went down like lava, but she didn't care. It was caffeine and sugar, at this point she was pretty sure she'd murder Alex for a cup of coffee at this point. They sipped their drinks together in comfortable silence, and Meredith couldn’t help but feel a sense of security as they sat, wordlessly and mutually tired, their feelings not needed to be expressed for the other to understand. Meredith liked Alex, something she would have never have thought she’d ever come to do, and Alex liked Meredith in the same way. They were close, closer than friends, but shared none of that physical attachment that defined romance.  But for now, the word ‘friends’ would have to do.

  
  


             The hospital was strangely quiet so early in the morning, only the sounds of muttering doctors, machines beeping, and the the quiet footsteps of family and friends who arrived to visit loved ones before going off to work or school. It was almost too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm .

 

           As if in sync with Meredith’s nihilistic thoughts, Owen stuck his head into the break room. internally Meredith swore, but externally she kept her face stoic. Owen seemed nervous, more nervous than usual for an early Sunday morning. They type of nervous that indicated someone one was hiding something.

 

"Hey, uh, Bailey wants to see you two in her office."

 

          Alex and Meredith exchanged questioning looks with one another before looking back at Owen. 

 

"Why didn't she page us?" Meredith asked, standing up from her seat, already crumpling her coffee cup and tossing it into the nearest trash bin. 

 

          Owen shrugged.

 

Meredith sighed, stretching, rolling her shoulders and rubbing her neck as she half heartedly walked out the door, following Owen with Alex following suit. 

 

They both walked behind Owen down the hall towards Bailey's office, trailing behind a few steps.

 

"What do you think she wants?" Alex questioned. Meredith cut him a look as they crossed the breezeway, feeling better now that she had caffeine and sugar coursing in her veins. Not that she was more alert, she felt more worried.

 

"Did you do something wrong?"

 

"No. Did you?" Alex retorted. 

 

Meredith rolled her eyes. "No."

 

“Mhmm.”

 

As they reached Bailey's office, Owen opened the door for them, earning more questioning looks from Alex and Meredith as they walked into the office, where two chairs facing Bailey's desk were waiting.  Bailey looked up from some papers on her desk.

 

"Morning. Have a seat, you two."

       Alex and Meredith did so with caution. Had Bailey wished them “morning”? Okay, something was very wrong.

 

Owen shut the door and leant on it. Meredith assumed it was blocking it from anyone coming in. 

 

"What's going on?" Alex asked. Bailey sighed.

 

     "Ah. I don't exactly-," Bailey gazed at Owen for a moment before going on, "really know how to say this. You remember George."

 

            Meredith's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her long dead friend. Her mind immediately went to his funeral, where Amanda, the girl George had pushed out of the way of the bus that had killed him, had cried harder then his mother.. Meredith swallowed and nodded.

Bailey took a deep breath.

 

"When we had him on the table, he was declared. But, that was not-,” she paused, unsure, “George O'Malley was resuscitated after the fact."

 

Meredith froze, her blood turning to ice.

 

"Don't- is this some kind of sick joke?! Because-," 

 

Owen cleared his throat, stopping Meredith, who turned to look at him.

 

                    "No. It's not. Bailey and I were there. We brought him back. My superiors saw an opportunity. George was transferred to a military hospital to recover. There was a young man about his age who got into a nasty car wreck, DOI. He had no next of kin and signed off on donating his organs.  Between the declaration and the organ donation...George and the young man were switched. Those were the organs that were donated. George recovered almost fully after seven months at a military hospital in Anaheim."

 

Meredith's mind went a million different directions, questioning everything she had just been told. Owen took the silence as a chance to go on.

 

          "He was deployed as a military trauma surgeon in Iraq with a top-level clearance special-ops team. These guys have targets painted on their backs, but since it's basically impossible to take them out with their training, they normally go after loved ones. With George officially declared dead, it made the job easier. He's been in and out of the Middle East and Africa for the past seven years."

 

"- and so," Bailey went on,  "he was honorably discharged a few months ago."

Meredith felt anger rush through her. "He's- He's been-!" she struggled to find the words, but before she could say anything, Alex spoke, but so quietly Meredith almost wasn't sure he had said anything at all.

 

"Who else knew?"

 

Bailey and Owen exchanged looks before Owen spoke, moving away from the door and pacing around the room, "Me and Bailey. Richard." Owen looked at Meredith. "Lexie. That was it. Not even his family."

 

"This is so fucking sick." Meredith muttered, crossing her arms. "George O'Malley, sweet, soft, innocent George is still alive? and Lexie knew? My sister?! Lexie knew, did Amanda even know?"

 

There came a creak from the door and all four heads turned as the door was shut behind someone.

 

"No. I wanted to tell her, but it didn't seem like a good idea."

 

             The owner of the voice stood in front of the door, a short, stocky figure wearing a pair of jeans and a black shirt, paired with an old, beat up camo jacket. His hands were in his pockets, a small smile on his lips. Meredith put a hand to her mouth in what she could only describe to herself as pure and utter shock.

 

             The man's left side of his face was scarred, patched together somewhat awkwardly but neatly. The scars were old, the tissue not red or inflamed, only a few bits raised around his cheekbones. There was just a shadow of a beard seemed to hide more scars, but not his gentle smile. The most noticeable thing about him were the scars that littered his face,  raw chasms of puckered flesh, paler than the tone of his skin, which was tanned, more tan then Meredith had remembered. The scars looked toughened by wind, grit and years, almost a permanent reminder of failings.

 

   His brown hair shaggy, just slightly long enough to barely cover a pair of warm brown eyes that seemed to sparkle the same way they did nearly a decade ago. George O'Malley smiled shyly at his old friends.

 

"Hey. You guys look like you've seen a ghost."


	2. Chapter 2

            Meredith tackled George into a hug, not being able to stop the wet, hot tears from streaming from her face. George gave a little chuckle and wrapped his arms around Meredith. They stayed that way for a few moments before George pulled away, smiling, the skin stretching taught around the scars around his mouth.

 

"Good to see you too, Meredith.”

 

Meredith suddenly  slapped George across the right side of his face, hard, with her left hand. George put a hand to his cheek, surprised but not stunned. "Ow." 

 

Meredith went in for another hug, cursing at George. "You bastard! I hate you!" Meredith pulled back, wiping her tears. "I really hate you." George chuckled, not trying to hide deep bellied laugh that came from his lips.

 

          Alex was still staring at George, the color drained from his face. 

"O'Malley." Alex uttered. George gave an awkward,small wave as Alex looked him up and down. "Hey, Alex."

 

            Meredith stepped back for a moment, letting Alex and George hug very briefly, very awkwardly. They were clearly glad to see one another, but there was some sort of unresolved tension between them, something that Meredith couldn’t quite pick out.. George seemed to whisper something into Alex's ear before they pulled away, Alex making eye contact with George. Bailey cleared her throat, and the three doctors turned to look at the chief.

  
  


"O'Malley accepted our offer to be our resident attending trauma surgeon." Bailey said. "He officially starts tomorrow, but considering everything, we'd like you two to take him around. Introduce him to the new people, the new buildings and staff."

 

  Meredith looked at George, who looked innocently back at her. Meredith frowned, thinking.

 

"I mean- is it okay to just have him walk around a hospital that he died in? I mean- Christina, Callie, Lexie, everyone he basically knew is gone."

 

           George raised his eyebrows at this. "It's fine. I’m officially out of the game. I can tell everyone I’m not dead, but  I'm not allowed to give specifics other then that. I’m also pretty much caught up on everything here Owen kept me filled in. I'm sorry about Derek, by the way." he added quickly, looking over at Meredith. He rose his hand, hesitatingly, as if he wanted to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but paused and put it back down at his side, his social graces seemingly as astutely awkward as ever.

 

"Thanks." Meredith muttered, the mood in the room darkening. George picked up on it.

 

 "I think I still know my way around. If you guys don't-,"

 

"No, it's alright. Just a little strange. Really, strange actually." Meredith said. "I'm still on call...." Alex nodded at this, adding "Me too."

 

"...but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to bring you around." Meredith went on, before her phone suddenly beeped. Meredith checked it and sighed. Someone in internal medicine needed a surgical consultation. 

 

"It's okay, Mer. I can take O'Malley.” Alex said, putting his hands into his coat pockets casually. George nodded. “It’s okay. Go. Do doctor things.” Meredith smiled at George, her heart lifting.

 

“Alright. It really is good to see you, George.”

 

“You too, Meredith.”

 

 

* * *

  
  


      George had his hands shoved into his pockets as Alex took him around the hospital, introducing various staff and showing around some updates of the hospital. It wasn't until they reached outside near the hospital parking lot that the two of them finally sat down on a bench, and they two of them truly realized the gravity of the situation, or perhaps how awkward things were between them.

 

George tapped his hands nervously on his knees. His hands were rough and weathered, not at all like his hands years ago. These hands were that of a practiced surgeon, a combat veteran. 

 

“So.” George said.

 

“So.” Alex said.

 

“I'm not going to tell anyone, if that’s-,”

 

“No, it’s not.” Alex interrupted, although that was a lie. Well, a half lie. It was part of the reason why.

 

        “Just, how could you not tell anyone? Me, Meredith, Izzy,” Alex’s voice trailed off at the mention of his ex-wife and cringed to himself.

 

“I-we, really needed you, O’Malley. And you left.”

 

    There was a heavy silence between the two of them, complimented by the distant sounds of sirens.

 

           “I...Alex, there’s really nothing I can say. I mean, by the time I could even open my eyes again-,” George stopped talking as the sirens grew nearer. Alex felt his heart thump with adrenaline as the ambulance screeches into the, an EMT practically throwing herself out of the front seat to open the back doors of the ambulance.

 

Instantly, the two doctors were on their feet as the EMT pulled a stretcher down from the back of the truck.

 

There was a person laying on the stretcher, a male EMT straddling the guy, doing chest compressions. The female EMT looked at Alex and George as she dragged the stretcher toward the ER.

 

“This is Pedro, 20-ish, one stab wound to the right upper chest.  Huge amount of blood loss on the scene. He's been down for about 30 minutes.  We couldn't get an IV on him but we got him intubated."

 

 Alex knew after about a three second glance two very important things. The kid had seemingly exsanguinated from a single stab wound to the right upper chest, and the kid was dead. 

 

George and Alex followed the stretcher into the ER, George and a nurse hooking the kid up to various machines, while Alex looked him over, putting a finger to the kid’s neck.

 

He had no pulse, which meant his heart was either not beating or not beating hard enough to generate a blood pressure. A quick flash with his own light showed his pupils were both 4 mm and non-reactive, meaning (most likely) his brain was critically deprived of oxygen.

 

“Temp’s 32 Celsius.” George said as he hooked the kid up to the cardiac monitor. Alex looked to the the cardiac monitor, and was surprised to see some cardiac activity, though he guessed it was just pulseless electrical activity.

 

“Alright, just-, call the code and declare-,” Alex started.

 

“Wait.” George said suddenly, putting his hand out, motioning for the EMT to keep going with chest compressions.

 

“O’Malley, he’s dead.”

 

“His heart is trying to beat, there’s just not enough blood. Give him some blood and see what happens.”

 

“O’Malley-,”

 

“You're not dead until you're cold and dead.Trust me on this one, Alex.”

 

The nurses, two EMT’s and George all looked at Alex. Alex looked from the lifeless body of the kid back to George and he felt his heart twinge.

 

“Damn it. Okay, get a couple of large-bore IV’s started. O’Malley, insert a chest tube into his right chest.”

 

Everyone scrambled, and Alex watched, cleaning his hands briefly as George inserted the chest tube into the kid’s right chest, which yielded very little blood. The medic’s claim was correct, the kid had bled out into the outside world.

 

Alex took over CPR from the medic as George and the nurses squeezed two warmed units of blood into him. Alex kept going, compression after compressions, and then suddenly, he felt it. The steady, weak thumps under his fingers. 

 

“We got a pulse!”   
Alex exclaimed, and then he realized, looking up at George, whose eyes had widened in recognition, figuring it out at the same time .

 

Somehow, the kid  had a measurable blood pressure.  And with that blood pressure, he would  now resume bleeding torrentially from his stab wound, which was obviously a lacerated subclavian artery.  

 

“Shit!

 

It was one of the most difficult injuries to repair, the approach extraordinarily complex. Before Alex could react, George moved forward and did the only thing he could at the moment. He stuck his finger into the hole 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip i lied when i said i would wait 24 hours before posting.


	3. Chapter 3

      “God damn it O’Malley!” Alex shouted, climbing down off the kid. George looked at him, and Alex almost stopped in his tracks. Gone was the shy, timid, low-esteemed surgeon. Alex was looking at an experienced trauma surgeon and combat veteran. And that was freaky.

 

        “Keep transfusing!” Alex told the nurses, who nodded. He then went over to the phone and ordered an operating theater to get ready. While putting a damn finger in the artery was effective at controlling the bleeding for the time being, it was also temporary, extremely temporary. At this point, the only way to save his life was a sternotomy.

 

As Alex ran up the stairs to the operating room, he questioned himself. Was the kid’s brain already cooked?

 

His brain had been deprived of oxygen for at least 45 minutes. They could just be wasting resources on a dead man.

 

As Alex reached the right floor, he shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his mind. That question would have to wait until the bleeding was stopped or the kid was really dead this time.

 

    By the time George and the kid had been wheeled to the operating room, the kid’s blood pressure had held. Alex, already scrubbed   
in, looked at George up and down for a moment.

 

“Switch with me and go scrub in.”

George nodded, positioning himself out of Alex’s way.

“1, 2, 3!”

         George yanked his hand away as Alex shoved his hand forwards, making the switch between the fingers that kept a kid alive in less then a second. George disappeared from the room to scrub in. In what seemed like minutes, George was back. Alex nodded to the bone saw and then back at George.

 

“So much for showing you around.”

 

Behind his mask, George grinned.

* * *

 

Three minutes later, George was sawing through Pedro’s sternum, and looked on with ease as his heart was stared him in the face, pumping away.

 

George took a breath, steadying his hands, and forcing himself to focus. Focus, past the staring eyes of Alex and the other nurses, past the beeping of machines, past everything.

 

_Focus_.

 

He got control of his brachiocephalic artery first, then extended the incision across Pedro’s right upper chest towards the entrance wound.

 

        Time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time, as George continued dissecting the artery distally until he got to the point where the Pedro’s subclavian artery split from his common carotid artery.  Finally he had gotten proximal control.

 

First part, done. Now he just need to get distal control, a much for difficult and daunting  prospect.   
  


              What would he do in the field? How would he do this same procedure, in the middle of nowhere with little to no supplies?

 

Simple answer, he wouldn't. But now wasn't the time to think like that.

 

         He continued the the dissection towards the wound continued, Alex’s finger still plugging the hole.  

 

“To get access to the injury, I have to remove the middle section of the clavicle. Alex, you're going to have to move your finger. It’s gonna start bleeding again so he have to work quick. Ready? Go.”

 

       Alex whipped his finger away as George quickly removed the middle section of the clavicle, and for the first time the injury came into clear view, and it audibly bleeding. Very audibly, the sound of blood rushing out echoing on the walls of the operating room. 

 

    George studied the injury with mild surprise; somehow the knife had missed the subclavian vein and had hit only the subclavian artery.  

 

      In a few moments, the artery was clamped both proximal and distal to the injury. George carefully placed a few sutures in the artery, trying to stop the hemorrhage, but still trying to maintain some flow into the right arm to keep the tissue alive and well. As well as it could be.

 

Alex couldn't help but notice his hands didn’t tremble as he carefully put in suture after suture.

 

Suddenly, just as quick as it started, the bleeding stopped. 

 

George quickly eyed the rest of the kid, looking up and down for any other injuries, which there were none of, and swiftly closed him up.

 

It wasn’t until after they had wheeled him into recovery and George was washing his hands did Alex talk to him as they both bent over the sink. 

 

“That was good, O’Malley.”

 

George looked at Alex from the corner of his eyes, his scars scrunching with the effort before looking back at the sink.

 

“He might not make it. There no way to predict how his brain reacted to the oxygen deprivation before we got his heart restarted.”

 

The two fell back into silence as they finished washing their hands. Then, the door swung open, revealing an approximately five foot tall very angry chief.

 

“What the _HELL_ were you thinking, Karev!?”

 

George jumped at the sound of Bailey's voice, and halfheartedly Alex smiled to himself. Some habits die hard.

 

“I wasn't.” Alex admitted sheepishly, putting a hand on the back of his neck. 

 

“It was me, Bailey. I was the one who got involved and put my finger in his artery. It wasn’t on Alex.” George said quickly.

 

Bailey crossed her arms, her face a mask of calm over calamity.

 

“O’Malley, it doesn't matter that you used to work here. You are not on staff here until tomorrow. If this man dies, we could be facing huge legal issue. Not to mention you stuck your damn finger into his damn chest!”

 

George looked Bailey straight in the eyes. “I understand. But if I hadn't done anything this man would have died. If me doing something means that I need to go somewhere else, then I can live with that.”

 

Bailey looked taken aback, as did Alex, at George’s statement. Was this really the same George O’Malley?

 

Bailey blinked and then sighed. “We’ll still keep you on. But you need to leave for the day. You too Karev,” she added quickly, her sharp eyes switching from man to man. “Stay out of trouble, stay out of the hospital. I'll transfer the case to Dr. Grey.”

 

Alex and George stared at her.

 

“Now!” She snapped.

 

Alex and George left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the trauma info from a buddy of mine who works in in the trauma bay at the hospital I'm an intern at. We get along pretty well, I think mostly because when his guys die I'm the one who figures out how. I don't know how he can interact with living people. Dead bodies don't judge you if you drink three coffees in a row. Living people do.
> 
>  
> 
> I swear I'll wait before uploading some more chapters.
> 
> Maybe.


	4. Chapter 4

         Alex changed out of his scrubs and grabbed his bag from his locker before heading out to the parking lot. He stopped at a diner to get some food before heading back to his place. When he set his keys down on the counter, he sighed. He had all this free time now, at least until tomorrow.

 

He tapped his fingers on the counter. Maybe he could just… watch a movie? What the hell did people do with free time these days? 

 

                 He decided to clean his apartment up. It's not like it was really dirty, but it was messy. Dishes sat unwashed in the sink, clothes strewn haphazardly on his couch and floor, a thin layer of dust covered the tops of books and movies still in packages he hadn't had the time to open.

 

           He got to work, cleaning the dishes by hand despite the fact he had a dishwasher (he just needed to do something with his hands), he swept the floor and dusted, picked up his clothes off the floor and did a load of laundry, folded his clothes and put them away, made his bed, and managed to gather a full bag of of trash during the whole process.

 

             When Alex looked at the clock, only an hour had passed, and he groaned inwardly to himself. Maybe he could practice suturing on a banana or something like he used to do during medical school. He rolled his eyes at himself as he lugged the trash bag over his shoulder and swiped the keys off his counter. He could go and throw his stuff into the dumpster and go find something to do, maybe go get some coffee or...  well, something. Anything other than being cooped up inside all day without an IV bag or nurse in sight.

 

Begrudgingly, Alex threw open the door and dragged the bag out behind him. As he turned around to shut his door, a familiar voice called his name.

 

“Alex?”

 

Alex turned around. Standing in the doorway of the apartment next to him stood George O’ Malley, his face revealing a mix of surprise and mild amusement despite the scars. He’s holding a set of keys, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

 

“O’Malley? What-, what are you doing here?”

 

George smiled mildly. “I live here. As of an hour ago. Guess we’re neighbors.”

 

Alex nodded, feeling awkward. “I guess so.”

 

There was a moment of silence between them, the type of awkward silence that made Alex internally beg for the sweet release of death.

 

“Do you, uh, need any help moving in?”

 

George blinked, taken aback by the offer. “Uh, no. This is all I brought with me. The place is already furnished and I tend to pack light now, so…” 

 

“Right.”

 

George shrugged. “Well I was going to go out and get something to eat, if you want to come. We could catch up?”

 

Alex shouldered his trash bag.

 

“Sure. I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

“No way!” 

 

“I shit you not, O’Malley. I thought Bailey was gonna kill this kid.”

 

George burst out into low chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so.

          Alex and George were sitting in a booth at a nearby diner that was within walking distance of their complex. After watching George inhale three servings of bacon (“what? I’ve spent like ten years eating MRE’s, okay? I missed bacon”), they now sat over two cups of coffee, George listening to Alex tell him the story of this kid who thought he could charm his way into an opioid prescription.

 

         As George laughed and smiled into his coffee cup, Alex couldn’t help but notice George. He had gotten older, they both had, but there was a certain weariness to his eyes. It was the type of weariness that made George seem older than he was, paired with this unspoken exhaustion that he hid well under the scars.

 

“Okay, seriously man, how have you been?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow at George. George shrugged, still looking into his coffee cup.

 

“Good. Okay, I mean. I’ve been in and out of the Middle East and Africa for the past seven years, so, okay as I can be. I missed hot showers.”

 

Alex grinned. “Okay, granted. It’s been a long time. Are you seeing anyone?”

 

George looked up from his cup, trying to get a read on Alex’s face, which was a mask of relaxed coolness.

 

“No. Not right now. I used to. Someone from my unit, but relationships get messy in close quarters. What about you?”

 

Alex took a sip of his coffee before shaking his head.

 

“On and off again. But you’re right. Things do get messy.”

 

George nodded.

 

“That they do.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Alex walked into the hospital, changed his clothes, and went to the break room to get himself a cup of coffee.

 

     When he walked in, Meredith was there. She was sitting in the center table, coffee in one hand, an open file in the other. She was looking at the files with mild interest, flipping through the pages calmly as she sipped her drink. Sitting across from her was George, who was bent over a clipboard, muttering to himself. He didn’t look up, to engrossed to do so.

 

Alex grabbed a paper cup and filled it with coffee and leant on the counter as the warmth of the cup brought some feeling back to his cold fingers.

 

“Morning.” Meredith said, glancing up from her file. “That guy from yesterday? His blood pressure stabilized. You’re lucky legal hasn’t come for the both of you.”

 

Meredith nodded at George, who finally looked up from his clipboard.

 

“They still might. There’s little chance he’ll ever open his eyes. Still…’ George trailed off, his eyes drifting back to  his clipboard.

 

Meredith saw Alex’s questioning look and explained.

 

“Bailey's giving him some interns. He’s trying to figure out which is which”.

 

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Bailey’s giving him interns?”

 

George rolled his eyes and looked up. “Yes, Bailey is giving him interns. Four interns. Dahlia Qadri, Taryn Helm, Casey Parker, and Levi Schmitt. Besides-,”

 

     There was a large crash from outside the break room and some yelps and protests.. In less then a moment, all three doctors were out in the hallway by the nurse’s station.

 

                  Standing in front of the nurse’s station was a large man, he looked nearly 6’8 or 6’9, at least 300 pounds. On the floor by his feet was a security guard, clutching his face. The man had obviously just hit the security guard. Standing front of this huge man was a doctor wearing a hijab, her arms up and palms flat, in a peaceful manner. There was a small crowd gathered around them, close enough to see what was going on but far enough away to avoid any trouble.

 

“Sir, please, I understand-,” the doctor muttered.

 

“I’ve been here an hour already! I want to be seen, now!”

 

Alex’s heart skipped a beat, and chest ached as he remembered getting shot when an angry person came into the hospital. Before he could do anything, however, George stepped up closer to the guy , his arms up, similar in manner to the doctor in the hijab.

 

“Whoa, whoa, hey man, listen, we don’t want any trouble, do we?”

 

George stepped up closer to the man, using one hand to shove the doctor behind him defensively.

 

        The man did not seem to like that, because he swung at George. George ducked under the wide swing and brought up his leg, kicking the guy in his gastrocnemius, just behind the guy’s right knee on the back of his leg. The pressure caused the man to stumble. At the same time, George put his right arm  around around the guy’s neck, the other cradling the guy’s head.

 

        He put pressure on the guy’s neck, gentle but firm. Within seconds, the guy started to lose consciousness and began to lean backwards, and George moved backwards with the guy, easing him gently onto the floor. It was maybe ten seconds when the guy fell to the ground, passed out.

 

The whole thing hadn’t been more than 15 seconds, and everyone stared at the two people on the floor in a mixture of shock and awe.

 

George gently placed the guy’s head on the floor and stood up.

 

“Can someone get a stretcher in here and restrain this guy? And call the police, as well.”

 

He stood up, helping the security guard up, who nodded and went off to go find a stretcher. George turned around to face the doctor wearing the hijab. He smiled mildly at her.

 

“You must be Dr. Qadri. I’m Dr. O’Malley, you’ll be working under me for the time being. I expect to see you in a few minutes when we start rounds.”

 

    He extended his hand, and Dahlia took it, looking a bit puzzled as she nodded. There was a brief moment of still before a brown haired nurse snapped back to reality and grabbed the phone.

 

           George turned around and walked back over to the break room, past Alex and Meredith. They stared as he walked between them. They exchanged looks with one another, looks that said “ _ What the heck just happened?” _

 

The trio retreated back into the break room where their coffee still sat, piping hot and exactly where they had left them not even a minute ago. Meredith and Alex both stood by the door, watching as George sat back down and looked at his clipboard for a moment. Alex glanced at Meredith who shrugged in return. George flipped through the pages he had before looking up at the duo of doctors.

 

“Did I say her name right?”


	6. Chapter 6

 

George O’Malley stood outside a patient's room, his clipboard in hand, four doctors crowded around him. He looked at his clipboard before looking at the small group.

 

 

         “Okay everyone. I’m Dr. O’Malley. I’m sure Bailey told you her five rules. I expect you all to memorize them and follow them. I’m going to be taking you on rounds with trauma patients today. Here’s a tip, don’t gag, don’t gasp, and don’t get pale. Everything you have seen so far hasn’t compared to what you’re going to see with trauma patients. Trust me, I know. Before we start, any questions?”

 

 

Dahlia raised her hand. George nodded at her.

 

 

“I heard that yesterday you put your bare finger on a guy’s artery and saved his life. Is that true?”

 

                George sighed. “He is alive for the time being. But we don’t anything yet. If he walks out those doors, I’ll say I saved his life. As of right now he’s in medical limbo. Anyone else?”

 

Another doctor raised a finger. He was wearing glasses with a band around them. Dr. Schmitt, George guessed, based off what he had read in bailey’s report. George nodded, though internally he rolled his eyes. When he had asked if anyone had any questions, he had meant about the rounds or trauma care, not about himself. 

 

 

“You used to be a doctor here?”

 

 

“Yes. I then served seven years as a combat medic and trauma surgeon. I was discharged and offered a position here after the fact. Anyone else?”

 

 

The group of doctors were silent, although the blonde doctor, Taryn, George presumed, looked like she wanted to say something, as did all the other doctors. 

 

 

 It was clear; they wanted to ask about his face, but didn’t quite know how to ask. He rolled his eyes.

 

 

“Fine. I was hit by a bus. Let's go, we have rounds."

* * *

  
Alex looked over the patient's chart one more time before looking back up.

 

 

“Okay. The camera didn’t show any signs of vascular malformation.”

 

 

The patient, a 16-year old boy, looked glum, as did his parents. He had dark circles under his eyes as he watched Alex carefully, sizing him up as a doctor. His mother was sitting in a chair next to the bed, his father leaning on the wall, still in his suit from work.

 

 

Alex took his stethoscope off of his neck and put the nubs in his ears. He placed the end on the boy’s chest. No heart murmur of any abnormal beating to be found.

 

 

“Okay, Ryan. Your chart says you’ve lost some weight over the past year?”

 

 

Before the kid could answer, his dad chimed up.

 

 

“He’s been eating less since he quit track.”

 

 

Ryan rolled his eyes. “You have to get up early for track. It wasn’t fun anymore.”

 

 

Alex looked the kid up and down and then eyeballed the kid’s parents before speaking.

  
“I have to talk to your son about sexuality activity. Generally it’s less embarrass-”

 

 

“We’re leaving!” The mother said, standing up quickly. His parents walked out of the room, leaving just Alex and Ryan.

 

 

Alex looked directly into the kid’s eyes. “How long have you been hurting yourself?”

 

 

Alex looked down at Ryan’s forearm, which had some nasty, yellow looking bruises on them. Ryan followed Alex’s gaze and then looked up, taken aback by Alex’s direct, blunt question. He blinked a few times before shaking his head.

 

 

“Uh, I’m not-, those are from a lay back grind that went wrong. I came off my skateboard straight into the sidewalk.”

 

 

“Right . So, no to hurting yourself, but yes to appetite and sleep changes, and you quit something you used to enjoy. How long have you been depressed?”

 

 

The kid shook his head. “I-,” he hesitated. “How did you know? I’ve been fooling my friend and parents for months.”

 

  
Alex closed the kid’s chart. “It’s my job to notice things. Maybe talking t your parents will make things better?”

 

 

Ryan shrugged. “I’ve tried. They take it personally that I’m unhappy and then I end up having to make them feel better. They don't get me. No one does.”

 

 

They were silent for a moment.

 

 

“Well, depression doesn’t cause you to spit up blood. Anything else you’re not telling me?”

 

 

Ryan looked down at the sheets and shrugged, closing in on himself. Alex could see that if he kept up this line of questioning, the kid wasn’t going to spill anything.

 

 

Alex sighed.

 

 

“Okay. When I was in medical school, it seemed like everyone else could handle the pressure. I couldn’t. I ended up hurting myself. Dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And you might have heard this before, but I understand. And I want to see you get better, alright kid?”

 

 

Ryan looked up from his laps. He shook head heads and adjusted his jaw, deciding on what to say.

 

 

“Sometimes I smoke weed. To take the edge off.”

 

Alex leaned in suddenly, making Ryan jump nervously. Alex shook his head and then picked up his pen light, shining it into the kid’s eyes. There was something there was hadn't been there before.

 

“You miniscule hemorrhages in your eyes." 

 

Ryan looked confused, trying not to blink in the face of the pen light. "What does that mean?"

 

 "You're bleeding from your eyeballs kid."

 

"Oh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking some liberties with backstories here. I also really like the B-Team interns a lot, not gonna lie, they're better interns than the original cast was. there's a lot less sleeping around with one another.
> 
> And let me just say, if you think that people sleep with each other in the on-call rooms, you're 100% wrong. Just cause there's beds in there doesn't mean you want to have sex there. They're small, cramped, and there's almost always someone else in there besides you.
> 
> Plus, if you get a chance to be in an on-call room in the middle of your shift, you're are so not gonna spend that time having sex. You're going to be asleep. trust me.
> 
> I actually started out as a surgical intern at a rather large and busy hospital in a lower-class urban area. It seemed like every night we'd be getting in high-level trauma shooting victims. If I had a chance to go to an on-call room, even if it was for ten minutes, you KNOW I would pass out on those stupid cots. The intern on-call room had these really uncomfortable ones, but after 48 hours of work, they felt like something the queen would sleep on.
> 
> Also, we weren't allowed to sleep with our co-workers. these two doctors were caught making out in a closet one time and we had to go through, like, a three hour legal/sexual harassment workshop on our day off. Not fun to come in on your day off because two doctors couldn't keep it in their pants.
> 
> Luckily, I work in the mortuary sciences now. Not a lot of people want to become medical examiners, or in my case forensic pathologists, so I only have like six other co-interns and two supervisors who actually work in the morgue at the hospital. I still work 32-38 hour shifts, but there's a lot less franticness when it comes to cutting open dead people and visiting homes to pick bodies up. I guess if we tried we could have time to sleep around, but we don't have an on-call room in the morgue and I don't really like the idea of getting hot and heavy in the same room as a dead person.
> 
> Just saying.


	7. Chapter 7

“16 year old kid. He was brought in coughing up blood, now he has hemorrhages in his eyes.” 

 

Alex was sitting outside, looking the kid’s file when George walked up to him. He sat down next to Alex on the bench. Alex looked up at George. There was deep red stain on his pants.

 

“One of the interns put an IV in wrong.”

 

“Schmitt?”

 

“How did you know?” 

 

Alex chuckled and then looked back down at the case file. George nodded towards it. Alex shrugged.

  
  


George shrugged in return. “Sounds like an acquired coagulopathy. That’s a wide range.”

 

Alex sighed. “Well if you factor in the kid’s depression, that narrows the field. Mood swings can be a symptom of illness.”

 

“It’s also a symptom of being a kid.” George added.

 

“Well, more importantly, his weight loss and sleep issues started more than a year ago.”

 

George grabbed the file from Alex and stared at it for a moment. “An infection?”

 

“I don’t think so. He admitted to using pot. Maybe there was something else in there. A chemical exposure, maybe?”

 

George bit his nail, thinking. “A blood clot? That would explain the hemorrhaging in the eyes and him coughing up blood.”

 

“A blood clot.” Alex muttered. "That might be it.  Thanks, O’ Malley.”

 

George shrugged and smiled. “It what I get paid for.”

 

* * *

 

 

Casey was sitting at his laptop in the locker room when Levi walked into smoothing out his scrubs. Taryn looked up from her phone as he walked in. 

 

“Couldn’t get the blood out, huh?”

 

Levi rolled his eyes. “No. I’m just glad Dr. O’Malley didn’t stab me with the needle when I messed up the IV.”

 

Dahlia poked her head out from around the corner, a stack of flashcards in her hand. “He wouldn’t have stabbed you. He would have put you in a choke hold.”

 

Taryn set her phone down and edged herself up further on the bench, suddenly interested in the conversation. 

 

“You were there this morning? When O’Malley took down that guy?”

 

Dahlia nodded. “Yeah. It was nuts. I was just hanging out with the nurses when this huge guy came in, demanding to be seen. When I told him we were short staffed and in the middle of a shift change, he lost it. The security guard tried to calm him down but got socked across the jaw. I thought he was hit me, but then Dr. O’Malley came out of nowhere and just- whoosh!” she waved her arms around. “Suddenly the guy was on the ground. Then he just stood up and introduced himself like nothing had happened!”

 

“I heard that he once did heart surgery in an elevator when the power went out, when he was an intern!” Dahlia exclaimed.

 

“I heard they called him 007 cause he almost killed one of his patients.” Taryn retorted seriously. “And he failed his intern exam so he had to re-do his internship.”

 

“Did he really get hit by a bus to get all those scars?” Levi asked, leaning in nervously, like someone was going to pop out at any second and bust them for gossip.

 

Taryn nodded , affirming. “Yeah. I asked some of the nurses who have been here for awhile. He signed up to be a trauma surgeon in the military and on his last day he jumped in front of a bus and saved some chick’s life. He was so burned up they thought he was gonna die.”

 

Suddenly, Casey looked up from his laptop.

 

“He did.”

 

The trio of interns looked over at Casey, who flipped his laptop over, showing his screen. All three of them leaned in closer to the screen. It was a death certificate with George’s name on it.

 

“How did you find that? There’s no way that’s real.” Dahlia commented.

 

Casey nodded seriously before turning his laptop back to face him, and clicked around his keyboard.

 

“It’s real, alright. I found it in the hospital's system. Signed by Derek Shepard.”

 

“Meredith’s husband? Wait, how did you get into-,” Levi frowned. “Right, Air Force. Are we gonna in trouble for this?”

 

Casey shrugged. “Only if we get caught. I’ve been doing some digging on this guy. Apparently, he was declared dead, but he was transferred to a military hospital to recover. There’s some records floating around about various tours high-security tours in the Middle East and Africa. Whatever he was doing, it was special ops. I can’t even find a digital trail of what he did exactly.”

 

Taryn looked over Casey’s shoulder. “He said he got discharged, right? What about that? Did they give a reason?”

 

Casey squinted at his laptop. “Uh… yeah, actually, it’s- huh.”

 

“Huh?” asked Dahlia. Now everyone was looking over Casey’s shoulder at the computer.

 

“His discharge is weird. Well, not weird, but rare. Normally there’s five types of discharge,  general, honorable, other than honorable, bad conduct and dishonorable. You get general when you finish your service, honorable is kind of like getting an A-plus, bad conduct is when you’ve committed a military crime, dishonorable is like when you commit a felony, other than honorable is if you’ve gotten in trouble with civilian court. But his is different. It’s listed as Medical- Under Honorable conditions.”

 

“I thought you said there were only five types of discharge?” Taryn asked..

 

“Well, yeah. It’s not really normal. A medical discharge happens when a soldier gets an injury or develops a disability and doctors feel there is no reasonable recovery, and the person is prevented from reasonably carrying out service duties.”

 

Levi frowned. “So he was serving even with all those scars? I wonder what happened what the medical discharge was for?”

 

Casey clicked something and then read something before going pale.

 

“What?” Dahlia asked, scooting closer, trying to see. 

 

“If you wanted to know, you could have just asked.”

 

All four of the interns jumped. George stood in the locker room, his arms crossed, his face a mask of calm.

 

“Uh, we were just, uh-,” Levi stuttered.

 

“It’s okay. I’d be curious too.” George said. “Here I was looking for my interns and they’ve all run off to dig up something they could have just asked me. Impressive you were able to find those records. They were buried pretty deep.”

 

Casey’s face burned red with heat. “Sorry.” he muttered.

 

George sighed and sat down on a bench across from the interns. 

“I suppose you’ll find out sooner or later. I was hit by a bus, and I did die, only for a few minutes though. After they declared me, my heart started to beat again. I was already enlisted, and at the same time a young man about my age died in a car wreck. He donated his body, not just his organs. Right time, right place, and we switched places. Everyone thought I was dead, even my family.  I recovered in a military hospital and I went on several high-security tours over the next ten years. Well, seven.” he added.

 

“Seven years into my service, my unit was ambushed by a group in a rebel-held city. We were held captive for the next three years until a drone strike effort killed the guards and destroyed part of the the cell wall. That’s how I managed to escape. Barely.”

 

Taryn was about to say something, but George held his hand up.

 

“Just me. It was a long three years for my unit. I was the only one left. But you figured that out, right, Casey?”

 

Casey nodded slowly. “Your report said you were interrogated.”

 

George raised his eyebrows. “Does it? Interrogated is too weak a word.”

 

He reached down and pulled up both of his pant legs, revealing metal bars.

 

“Interrogation doesn’t leave you without your legs.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love these interns. I'm thinking about adding another chapter just focusing on them. Seriously. They seem to have common sense, a trait that most doctors at Grey Memorial seem to lack. did ya'll see that new episode? Weed cookies? really?
> 
>  
> 
> smh.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> side chapter- let's look at the interns

  Dahlia pushed everyone out into the hallway quickly and shut the door behind them.

 

Taryn whirled around, furious. “What are you doing?!”

 

  Dahlia motioned to the door. “Duh?”

 

“Things were just about to get good!”

 

       Casey shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dahlia’s right. We should leave them to talk it out. I don’t think Dr. O’Malley has told Dr. Karev everything.”

 

Levi adjusted his glasses band nervously as the realization hit him. “We’re the only ones he told.”

 

           “Told you about what?”

 

All four interns nearly jumped out of their skins as they turned around. Standing behind them was Meredith Grey, wearing her scrubs and her hands placed casually in her pockets. She eyed them all suspiciously

 

        “Uh, nothing.” Levi muttered quickly, averting his eyes. There was a light blush to his face, no doubt remembering the time he had fainted during surgery with Dr. Grey.

 

Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Oh?’

 

Luckily, Casey stepped in. “We can’t really talk about it. You know, HIPPA and all. Don’t want to get sued.”

 

“Sure.”

 

              They all stood there for a moment in silence as Meredith eyed them, as if deciding if it was worth it to really find out what they were up to, before deciding that no, it wasn’t.

 

“Okay. well, listen then. I have a patient I want you to see. Follow me.” she whipped around on the heels of her arch-support sneakers, her coat twirling in the process, making her look like some sort of medical superhero.

 

              The interns all looked at one another, sharing gazes of worry, before they followed behind Dr. Grey, like duckling. Barely experienced, highly trained medical ducklings.

 

Grey moved the group to a spare conference room. Once everyone was sitting down at the rounded table, Grey held up a file she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere and laid it open on the table for the group to see.

 

“Okay. 37 year old woman. She was brought in in post-respiratory arrest. She was intubated but oxygenating poorly. The initial doctor confirmed at she had a small pulmonary embolism, a blood clot that got stuck in her lungs and blocked the oxygen. The pain started in her leg, that’s where the clot started. Deep vein thrombosis.”

 

“DVT in a 37- year old?” Levi asked, his brows raising, perplexed. Grey rolled her eye .

 

“Hold your comments.”

 

Levi looked down.

 

            “The son said it never hurt her there before, and despite the initial doctor’s _stupid_ -,” Meredith stopped herself short of cursing at the mention of the attending practices. She cleared her throat before going on.

 

“Her blood alcohol was at .12 at 10:30 in the morning. The son admitted to giving her 2 ounces of vodka to help , and I quote ‘cool her out’. BUt he insisted the last time he gave her any was three days prior to the ER visit. It wasn’t until later the son mentioned she heard voices.”

 

       “Schizophrenia?”

 

“Levi, what did I say?”

 

  "Sorry Dr. Grey.”

 

        Meredith sighed. “Anyways, the attending reasoned that the alcohol was the cause of of the DVT. The alcohol make her pass out, she’s immobile for long periods of time. The son insists she’s not an alcoholic. She was put on blood thinners and was about to be discharged before I stuck my head in the ER. He had no proof. At all. He didn’t scope for varices, didn’t check her esophagus, didn’t even run one blood test before making his diagnosis. He’s the freaking cowboy intern who never lost his ego.”

 

 Meredith shook her head in dismay. Doctors, surgeons, they weren't there to make assumptions, they were there to do the work.

 

 She went on, anyways.

 

“So, I need your help. A fresh pair of eyes.  37 year old woman with no symptoms or history presents with DVT. How did how did she get it?”

  


The room was silent as the interns watched her. Meredith rolled her eyes.

 

“You can talk.”

 

Taryn raised her hands Oral contraceptives, smoking, diabetes, obesity- sorry, what’s the point here? A DVT is a DVT. Put her on IV Heparin to prevent future clots-”

 

“Not the point, Dr. Helm. I’ll give you a clue, this woman is 37 years old. That’s about 20 years too young to get a DVT.”

 

“Trauma?” Parker offered. “I saw it happen when I was deployed. Someone got kicked in the leg.”

 

Meredith shook her head. “No, no trauma. None of the risk factors. She’s mobile, too. Paranoia keeps her limber. The kid gave me his notes. Seems reliable.”

 

Meredith dropped a composition notebook onto the table. It was huge, overstuffed past it’s normal limit, with bookmarks and multi-colored sticky notes sticking out of the pages.

 

“Maybe there’s a connection? I mean, can we include schizophrenia in the differential for a DVT?”

 

“No,” Meredith said. “Abnormal dopaminergic pathways in the brain do not cause blood clots. Schizophrenia is not the cause of DVT.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This is stupid.”

 

“It’s not stupid, Taryn.” Dahlia said as the four of them walked down the hall.

 

“What I think is stupid is ruling out schizophrenia as a cause of DVT. We don’t really know anything about schizophrenia,” Levi muttered.

“Well this whole thing is stupid. Why are even wasting our time on a simple blood clot? It’s like-,” Taryn struggled to find the words. “Picasso painting a fence white.”

 

“I’m more of a DaVinci man myself,” Casey said. “Let’s just focus on the DVT. She’s 37 years old! We don’t even know how to treat it. Come on, fumigation of the vag?”

 

“Woah, what?” Dahlia exclaimed, her cheeks flushing.

 

“Please, a little louder, Parker, I don’t think everyone heard you.” Taryn rolled her eyes.

 

Casey stopped walking and face the rest of the interns, stopping abruptly in the middle of the hallway. “2,000 years ago. That's how Galen treated schizophrenics. The Doug Ross of ancient Greece.”

 

“Is anyone even interested in this?” Levi asked, eye darting around the small circle they had formed.

 

“Well,” Dahlia said, ““I’m interested, for sure. Interested about how a schizophrenia could be caused by malposition of the uterus.”

 

Taryn rolled her eyes.

 

“Whatever. Let’s just go see the payment. Human connection and all that.” She trot off down the hallway, Parker following at her heels.

 

“Are we sure about this?” Levi asked miserably. Dahlia put a comforting hand on Levi shoulder, giving him a quick pat or reassurance.

 

“Well, Galen was pretty sure about the fumigation thing.”

* * *

 

 

When they walked into the room, a young man, a kid, stood up to greet them. He had long, curly brown hair and tired green eyes. He looked young, couldn’t have been older than 19 or so. He wiped his hand nervously on his thighs.

 

“Hello.”

 

Casey nodded at the kid and extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Parker. These are doctors helm, Schmitt, and Qadri. Dr. Grey sent us to take a look at your mother.”

 

The kid nodded. “Andrew Johnson.”

 

They stood in silence for a moment before Andrew made a move toward the bed. A woman lay there, propped up by pillows, eyes dazed and averted.

 

“Mom,” Andrew said leaning to be closer to his mother. “These are doctors, they’re going to help you.”

 

The woman didn’t look from her spot at the wall. Parker cleared his throat. “Okay, Ms. Johnson. How much do you drink?”

 

Andrew, much to everyone’s surprise, didn’t try to answer for his mother. Instead, he stood there, quietly, waiting.

 

Her movements were jerky, like she had Tourette’s. She didn’t look away from the wall.

 

“Okay. Well, what about the meds?” Parker asked.

 

This time, Ms. Jackson answered, but it wasn’t what they were expecting.

 

“Baseball!”

 

The room was silent for a moment. “Nice.” Levi said.

 

“No,” the woman shook her head by moving the whole of her body from side to side. “Sad!” She was twitching now, head and body rocking back and forth.

 

“Not the Mets, mom. Meds. As in doctors.” Andrew offered.

“”Mets are sad.”

 

Taryn stifled a laugh that was threatening to come forth. This chick, this case, it was just so _weird_.

  


“Yeah, the Mets suck.” Parker said. “But what about the medicine?”

  


“No one will believe me.”

 

The room was silent again, but not in an awkward way it had been in earlier, but in a more stunned way.

 

Dahlia looked at the woman in the bed, there but not really present to the young kid who was always present but sometimes not there, and to her fellow interns who each looked taken aback by the admission.

 

“We do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little side-chapter of what the interns are going to be to during the next few chapters, which will hopefully explain their absences as the story moves on.
> 
> Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, right after I posted the last chapter I had to move from my apartment and into a new place, and recently I've been swamped with work. There was a huge pile-up with several DOA's and it's been a bureaucratic nightmare figuring out who is who. I've been buried up to my chest in paperwork. However, things have calmed down enough that I came home tonight with enough pep to post this!
> 
> In my hospital at least, our 'rounds' is when eryone sort of gathers in a confrence room and the attending or resident presents a case that is puzzling or something they can't quite figure out and we all brainstorm ideas. The 'rounds' you see on TV where the resident and the interns go walking around room to room is what we call "PV" or Patient Visits. I'm pretty sure it varies from hospital to hospital. I haven't done rounds in almost eight months, though. You know, cause dead people are normaly just... dead.
> 
>  
> 
> Cheers!


	9. Chapter 9

      A sudden beeping of his phone woke Alex up from the on-call room at once. Heart thudding, he threw off his blanket and looked at the message, half expecting one of his patients to be in code blue. Instead, he found a brief message telling him to head up to the ICU.

 

        By the time he had gotten there, George was already there with his pack of interns following him like baby ducks. It would have been hilarious if George didn’t have such a grim expression on his face.

 

“O’Malley. What’s up?”

 

 George looked at his interns expectantly, eyebrows slightly raised.

 

   “Anyone going to answer?”

 

The blonde-haired intern, Taryn, spoke up first.

 

“Uh, over the two days Mr. Cortez’s  blood pressure stabilized. He stopped bleeding, and he actually began to open his eyes, earlier. He even seemed able to follow some simple commands, wiggling his toes and blinking.”

 

           She paused to take a breath, and another intern, the one whose glasses were secured with a band spoke up.

 

“He was stable enough that we were able to get a CT of his brain. That’s when the devastation of his brain injury became apparent.”

 

             George cleared his throat.

 

“What type of damage?”

 

          The doctor in the hijab raised her hand and George nodded.

 

“Widespread ischæmic damage to his entire cerebellum and various large portions of his cerebrum with extensive œdema to the point where his brain is starting to push his brainstem down into his foramen magnum.”

 

          Alex frowned, his cautious optimism disappearing. “A transtentorial herniation…” he muttered looking down at the CT scan.

 

“Not just any. An ascending transtentorial herniation. Which is…?” George looked over at his interns.

 

       The ex-air force doctor cleared his throat. “ A situation where space-occupying lesions in the posterior cranial fossa cause superior displacement of superior parts of the cerebellum through the tentorial notch.”

 

“How can we tell?”

 

“In the CT- the obliteration of the quadrigeminal and superior cerebellar cistern?” The ex-air force guy said, ending his statement as more of a question. George nodded.

 

“You’re correct. Don’t doubt yourself, Parker. Levi, what are clinical presentations?”

 

“Nausea and/or vomiting, and the rapid progression toward a decreased level of consciousness and,” the intern's voice got very small. “Eventually, death.”

 

On that note, George looked up at Alex and they locked eyes for the first time, or what felt like the first time, since George had come back from the dead.  An unspoken thought passed between the two of them.

 

The guy was actively dying.

 

            Alex shook his head in dismay. No matter what they did, the chances of this kid surviving were slim to none. Alex studied the CT before looking up at George, who nodded.

 

“I had the same idea. No other option left.”

 

“A drastic one.” Alex muttered.

 

The doctors knew what they had to do, although they didn’t like it. The kid was in immediate danger of dying.   _ Again _ .  It’d be a last-ditch effort to save him. Neurosurgery would have to take him back to theatre to remove a portion of his skull to give his brain space to swell and allow the herniation to improve. But this kind of surgery when you’re actively dying would be risky.

 

“There’s still a chance,” Alex said had he passed the tablet back to George. 

 

“They’re taking him to the theatre in a few minutes. I figured you deserved to know what was going on.”

 

That phrase, _deserving to know_ , struck a chord. The room suddenly got very still the only sound was the beeping of the heart monitor and the rise and fall of the ventilator helping keeping the guy alive.   Alex’s reaction was so visceral that even the interns could see it. One of them, the headscarf wearing  one, Dahlia, shifted on her feet.

 

“Uh, you know, I think one of nurses said she needed help cleaning bedpans. We should probably go and do that. Right now.”

 

She whipped around ushered her co-workers out of the ICU, leaving Alex and George alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this takes place about 38- hours into their shift. The next chapter is gonna be an intern adventure one! I love them, they all have personalities and characteristics that make them seem like actual people rather then just fillers fir whenever the next actor leaves the show. I just have an issue with theri whole 48-hour shift thing.
> 
>  
> 
> True story, residents aren’t allowed to work 48 hour shifts anymore. They’re capped at 80 hours per week, maybe they go a little bit over, but these 48-hour shifts are just non exsistant. This started becaues of the Libby Zion law, wich is a law that limits the amount a resident can work in New York state hospitals to 80 hours per week, but as a good rule of thumb most hospitals follow it. Libby Zion is the name of a young girl who died because residents who were so overworked missed catching a diagnosis and reaction to medicence and she ultimately died. That was in the 80's, so having doctors work for long hours, even the interns, id such a bad idea. Not only is it a danger to the patients, but it's also a legal issue. If someone dies because youve been working for so long, that's a a freaking law suit waiting to happen.
> 
> Glad I work with dead people.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have no self control about when you post chapters clap your hands *clap clap*
> 
> IMPORANT!!!- trigger warning for anxiety/ panic attacks- take care of yourselves guys

      There are many wants to control a person. George learned that the hard.

 

The first, and most obvious is using force, pure and physical in itself. But it was ineffective and shortsighted way of maintaining power. Crude physical force was a good way of of getting power, but maintaining it, well that was a different story all together. The possibility of violence has to be constantly maintained, at least in the mind of the victim. Physical force was like a trapped animal, constantly prodded and poked, until one day, it would break.

 

          Another way is by analysis. Analysis of character and habits, routines and quirks, in order to achieve domination. In it’s own way, it’s just as flawed as physical domination, its unpredictability and how easy it is to be subverted by anyone with the knowledge of that manipulation.

 

             And George had seen too much of it in the world. He had experienced it first hand. He was all too familiar with it. It was as omnipresent as an old friend. So when Alex stared at him in that tiny room, George’s first defense was manipulation. Not on purpose, not at first, anyways, but anything to avoid the massive fight he could feel brewing in the room.

 

“Deserve to know? Really, O’Malley?”

 

George didn't look up from the floor. 

 

“I didn’t have a choice, Alex.”

 

“Didn’t have a choice? Seemed like you had a choice when you told Lexie.”

 

“Lexie-,” George faltered for a minute. “-she was an unplanned variable. I really did-,”

 

“Care for her? Loved her? Respected her?” Alex interrupted “Seriously, O’Malley? Did it ever occur to you how everyone else-,”

 

Well, so much for control.

  
  


           “Yes! Yes, it did occur to me Alex, how everyone else would feel!” George interrupted. He finally looked up from the floor and into Alex’s boring, furious eyes. His face was twisted in anger, brows furrowed with intensity. When he made eye contact, George couldn’t help himself but to wince, and maybe, maybe Alex had felt that twinge of guilt, too. George met his eyes with a certain bitter, horrified maturity. Holding that eye contact with Alex was like staring into the sun, or overloading a computer, an overwhelming rush of data, too much and too fast and too soon and he’s so far away and everything is so-

 

            “It did, Alex! Do you think I wanted to leave everyone behind? Do you think it was that easy for me to- to,” George took in a shuddering breath “-leave everything? Everyone? Are you really that self- centered that- Jesus, I missed Lexie’s funeral! I  missed my brother’s wedding! I missed parent’s and funerals and the everyday of  _ everything _ ! Seven goddamn years I have  risked my life to save others and I still wasn’t-.”

 

_ They’ll eat you from the inside out- no- no _

 

“O’Malley?”

 

The blood pounded in his ears. His heart thudded in his chest. He suddenly looked down at his hands, away from Alex, and watched them tremble. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

 

“Just- leave it, Karev.”

 

George moved quickly to get to the door. As he put his hand on the knob, Alex put a hand on his other wrist.

 

“O’Malley.”

 

“Leave. It.”

  
  


George yanked his hand way and made a beeline for the bathroom. Somehow, in his daze, he managed to find it. He threw the door open and stumbled inside, shutting it and locking the door behind him.

 

H        e turned on the tap and the water run, staring at the steady stream of clear as it spiraled down the drain. He could hear from outside, if but barely, the sounds of people outside the single-room bathroom, talking and laughing. It would only be a matter of time before someone knocked on the door- he had to hurry.

 

The water splashed into the sink, drops spattering on the sides of the sink, the harsh, crude sound of water against metal. It echoed across the walls and into his head.

 

Why was he doing this? Why did he come back? Why didn’t he just stay dead?

 

He can’t-

 

He can’t do it.

 

The water is too loud now, everything is too loud now. He needs to turn off the tap and stop the water running- he needs to leave.

 

_ I can’t let them down. I can’t– _

 

_ Too loud. Turn off the tap. That will do. The water will do. But there’s too much of it. The water makes it hard to breathe. Can’t– _

 

He can’t breathe. His heart races. It’s pounding so hard it feel like it’s going to pound itself right through his ribs. He can feel it there. Pounding. Harder. Faster. He can’t breathe. No breath. His lungs don't work. His chest it too tight. Squeezing his heart. He tries to suck in aor but his lungs don’t- won’t work. No air. 

 

And suddenly his arms go numb, pins and needles starting from the tips of his fingers that race up his arms like wildfire. All consuming. He can’t-

 

He places his hands to his head and shuts his eyes, trying to find himself.

 

“Stop it. Stop it!”

 

He has to stop it. He has to go see patients. Unlock the door. Try to act like-

  
  


Oh god, he can’t do this. 

 

He can’t do this. He just- 

 

He can’t breathe.

 

He can’t.

 

He can’t.

 

A wave of terror.

 

_ He can’t stop this _

 

_ Heart feels funny. Light. Like there’s no air. My eyes are hurting, sucked back into my head, like there’s nothing in the space behind them. No air. No blood. My heart is racing and I can’t– _

 

He can’t feel anything in my arms.

He can’t see . The world is black and grey. Spots of color. It doesn’t make sense. His arms are numb. His legs. The ground is rolling and he can’t–

He can’t breathe. 

 

He needs to breathe. Slowly. 

The someone is calling for him. He hears them, but  can’t–

He can’t go out there. He can’t face them. He can’t breathe. The air is too–

He needs  to feel normal. 

Concentrate. Focus. Breathe. In. Out. In Out. 

He can’t do this. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t face this anymore. he can’t feel. He can’t–

He can.

Deep breaths. Calm. He needs to calm. He can’t–

He can’t find himself and then there’s nothingness. He is am nothingness. He can’t–

He can’t feel himself. He doesn’t–

He doesn’t feel–

His eyes hurt. They fill with tears. Are they his eyes? He can’t–

I can’t cry. I can’t breathe. I can’t stop. I can’t–

He opens the door. Alex is there. Talking

His words are noise, so loud, so loud he can’t hear them. He can’t–

He can’t fall down. He can’t give up.

He smiles. He nods. He hopes Alex will go away. He does. 

The door shuts.

He feel something behind him. A wall. He sinks down it and lets his head fall and tears fall and life fall and he fall and he can’t–

_ I can’t. _

 

_ I can’t. _

 

_ I can’t move. _

* * *

 

Time.

 

He’s on the floor. He doesn’t know how he got here. How did he get here? His eyes hurt. His chest hurts. His arms are numb and tingle. 

 

Time.

* * *

 

Time. 

How much is gone? 

He runs his hands over his skin and it hurts, like needle in his flesh. It hurts. The light is too bright. It hurts his eyes. He can’t-

 

Time.

* * *

 

He can’t go out there. The lights are too bright. The sounds are too loud. Every touch on his skin is agony

He pulls himself up and looks at himself in the mirror.

Don’t get too close. 

_ Don’t look me in the eye or you might know me, you might see me, you might see I’m not real. I can’t– _

He can’t just sit here.

He can’t just sit here forever.

 

He has to move.

 

His head aches.

 

He feels tired. Empty. Hallow. Like the life has been drained out of him.

 

His breathing evens out.

 

He straightens his spine.

 

He can’t keep doing this.

 

He looks at himself in the mirror.

 

_ Why couldn’t you have just left it alone? _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have no self control about when you post chapters clap your hands *clap clap*  
> If you feel really bad about it clap your hands *clap clap*  
> If you really hated this chapter because of what it made you feel and it sucks a lot for someone who doesn't deserve it clap your hands *clap clap*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final chapter!! I might post another bonus one in regards to the interns and their story, but maybe not. I'm very proud to have actually bit the bullet and finished this. I'm actually pretty happy to how this fic turned out. Please enjoy the final chapter!

The next day started as usual. Twenty minutes before the end of his shift after eight hours of successfully avoid O’Malley, Alex heard someone call,

 

                “Hey, have you seen Dr. O’Malley?”

 

Alex turned around from the nurse’s station. He first looked forwards and then, seeing no one, lowered his head. Standing there in all her glory was Maggie, arms crossed, clipboard in hand.

 

           Alex shrugged, trying to remain casual about it. “I saw him earlier. Don’t know where he went, though,” he said, averting his eyes from Maggie’s intense gaze. Maggie’s mouth opened into a little ‘o’ shape, her eyebrows raised.

 

         “Do you- I mean-,” she exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

 

“What?”

 

                  “Did you guys have sex?”

 

Alex’s eyes widened, in bewilderment and confusion. “What? No! No. Absolutely not.”

 

             Maggie rolled her eyes. “So why are you avoiding him?”

 

“I’m not avoiding him.”

 

             “Uhm, yeah, you are. What’s up with that?”

 

Alex groaned. “Nothing happened! I’m not avoiding him!”

 

        “Avoiding who?”

 

        Alex and Maggie turned to look at George who was standing there, looking a little disheveled but otherwise fine, there was a certain edge in his eyes that fit him well; calm, collected, mildly amused look, which was so much different from yesterday.

 

“Levi.” Maggie said quickly.

 

          George looked from Alex to Maggie, a slight smile on his lips. “He’s a good kid, even if he’s an okay doctor. I heard that you wanted to see me, Dr. Pierce?”

 

Maggie smiled brightly, her teeth showing. She extended her free hand. “Maggie, please.”

 

          George took her hand and shook it. “George.”   
  


Maggie sighed and then looked down at her clipboard. “Well, I’m glad you’re both hear. It’s about that patient that you stuck your finger in, George?”

 

           “Yeah.”

 

         Maggie’s smiled dimmed. “We got him into surgery. It didn't work. He’s completely unresponsive, his pupils both blown, lost his cough, gag, and corneal reflexes. Both an apnœa study and brain flow study confirmed it- he’s brain dead.”

 

Alex felt a a lurch in his stomach, that cold feeling of dread he so often got when someone under his care, or someone who had been under his care, had died.

 

          “But-,” Maggie interrupted Alex’s melancholy, “We found his next of kin, his mother. She was okay with the whole finger thing, so we don’t have to worry about legal action. She also signed off on donating his organs. We already have three people prepared for the OR. I was wondering if both of you wanted to assist?”

 

George shook his head, sadly. “No, that’s alright. I’m at the end of my shift. Anymore overtime and it’ll be a HIPPA violation.”

 

         “Me too.” Alex said, shrugging. He didn’t really want to be apart of the surgery anyways, there was always something morbidly horrific about organ donation surgeries. He found it a bit existential and a bit sad, and that really wasn’t something he needed right now.

 

“That’s okay. I get it. Why don't you guys just head home? I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”

 

          She turned to leave, but before she did, she looked over her shoulder and winked at George, before walking off, her lab coat fluttering behind her like wings.

* * *

 

          When Alex walked into the parking lot, he saw George on the phone, wearing a black shirt and jeans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. In spite of himself, he went over to George, who muttered something and hung up.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

             George shook his head, and shouldered his duffel bag.  “My car got towed. Apparently parking at the hospital has changed in the past seven years.” He smiled grimly. “I can’t get it out of the lot until tomorrow. I guess I’ll just take a cab-,”

 

“No, I’ll drive you.”

 

        George looked a little startled at that, his eyebrows raised slightly when he asked “Really?”

 

Alex shrugged casually. “Yeah. I mean you live next door to me anyways. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

 

            “Thanks, Alex.”

 

“No problem.”

* * *

 

         During the drive home, all Alex could think about was the kid who had died. He had went through the entire gamut of emotions during the course of the whole thing, from frustration to elation, worry to optimism, fear to dejection.  Just when he thought he was dead, he came back, and just when he thought he would make it, he didn't.

 

     That was something that Alex realized during the drive home. The entire time he worked on Pedro, every single moment, his inner pessimist kept reminding him that he had a 99% chance of dying.  But goddammit, that also meant he had a 1% chance of surviving. Of course it wasn’t a high chance of surviving, but it wasn’t zero.

 

Well, until it was.

* * *

 

          They parked and walked back to the apartment complex, Alex could tell something was off right away, but it was just something he couldn’t put his finger on it. When they reached their respective doors, Alex turned to look at George, whose eyes were darting around the hallway.

 

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

George shrugged nervously. “I don’t know what Bailey has in mind….” George trailed off for a moment. 

 

          “But, uh, you can-,” George stumbled over his words. Alex noticed for the first time that it was George who didn’t seem quite alright. His normal demeanor, whatever the hell that was nowadays, was off. His pupils were dilated, his demeanor shifty as he glanced around the hallway. He was pale, his skin looked clammy.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

         George didn’t respond, instead looking down and fumbling with his keys, opening the door to his apartment. He threw the duffel bag off his shoulder and through the doorway, before going in after it.

 

Alex dropped his backpack went over to the open doorway of George’s apartment.

 

         “O’Malley?”

 

George again didn’t reply, he just shook his head. He turned around in a circle looking around the room and then back down at the floor, twitching now, almost shaking.

 

          “I just- I ne-,”he faltered, unable to talk any further. He put a hand to his forehead and slumped down against the far wall, his breathing quickening to an uneven pace.

 

Alex made a movement to get closer, but George looked up at him.

 

        “Don’t!”

 

          Alex stopped mid-step, helpless as he watched George fumble around reality and place his head on top of his knees which he drew up to his chest, his eyes closed as he mumbled something to himself over and over.. In what felt like hours later, but was probably more like a minute or two,  George’s breath evened out, and Alex felt like it was safe to approach him, slowly.

 

“George?”

 

           George didn’t say anything, so Alex moved closer, step by step until he was standing, and kneeling, in front of his friend.

 

“George?” Alex tried, much more gentle then before. George’s breath hitched suddenly, and Alex realized he had been crying that whole time.

 

           “Yeah.” George croaked out from his knees, not looking up. His voice was hoarse and cracked.

 

“‘M’okay.” he muttered. “Sorry.”

 

          Alex felt something in his gut twist, that same funny feeling he had gotten before as he watched George apologize.

 

“Don’t apologize.”

 

          George finally looked up,  his eyes red and bloodshot. Alex noticed dark circles under his eyes, the dark circles that came with weeks and weeks of not sleeping.

 

“I just-,” George shook his head. “I have PTSD. I can’t control it. Not really.”

 

       “George, I-,”

 

“No, okay? Don’t say anything.”

 

          Alex shut his mouth.

 

        “Five years into my service I started to see someone from my unit. A nurse. Everything was fine. We were okay. But,” George faltered, but kept going, “I can’t tell you details, but we were ambushed by some people. A militia. We were taken prisoner. By the end of the first month, there was only two of us left. Me and him. And every single day they would take him away and I would hear-,” George shook his head as his voice cracked. “Then I was the only one left. I would treat their wounded. Until six months ago, when a US airstrike killed their leader and the forces took over the rebel held city. I went back to the states, my superiors recommended me for a discharge.”

 

    George looked miserable, and Alex found his heart was beating rapidly. Maybe not all of George’s scars had come from the bus crash.

 

          “And you just-,” he struggled to find the right words. “You saw it happen. That’s how it starts, right? It’s all happening right in front of your eyes over and over. Your body’s here, but your mind is still there. And there’s this door-, and you want to go through it to get away, so you do and it leads you right back to that moment. And you see that door again and you know it won’t work, but maybe it just might, so you step through that door and you’re right back again, every time. You still feel it every time. So you’re always looking, always on guard, and it’s so… exhausting being  hyper-vigilant every minute. And one second you’re fine and the next something brings it all crashing back down on you. Every single freakin’ day and night. I can’t even go to sleep because I am so terrified of what I might see. All the damn time, Alex. Every day.”

 

         George suddenly looked furious, and he reached down and yanked on his left leg, yanking so hard, something shifted and came loose. Alex was helpless to watch as George ripped his prosthetic off, a wave of chilled shock tingling down his spine as George hurled it across the floor. It clattered against the wood, hollow.

 

“And this fucking things!”

 

       George ripped off the other one, and Alex could only stand there in the complete and utter shock as he realized George was missing his legs, probably from his time in captivity.

 

“It just hurts. So bad.”

 

         George’s voice got quiet as this, and he looked down at his knees, now missing their metal counterparts, as if ashamed.

 

        Alex knelt there in front of George, who had poured out something so intimate and private, unsure of what to do, just like he had been that drunken night so many years ago when they had both gotten so tossed they ended up sleeping together, a secret the both of them had sworn to take to the grave the next morning.

 

        Alex had lied when he said he didn't remember anything. He did remember. Every minute, every detail, every curve and mark and moment. But he lied. Because he was scared of what that might have meant.

 

But then he had died, and their secret went with him.

 

       And suddenly he was, he was here once again, right in front of Alex’s eyes, so close to Alex’s eyes and Alex felt that tug in his gut again, this tug he had been trying to ignore the minute George had stepped back into his life from the dead.

 

So Alex did the only think he knew he could do, he close his eyes, leaned in, and kissed him.

 

        At first, it was almost like he was going to pull away, like George was going to pull away, and there was a moment of panic that Alex felt that this had all been one big mistake, but then George relaxed, and Alex felt himself melt as his entire being was consumed. They were everything, they were nothing. 

 

       It wasn’t at all like that drunken night, where they had embraced in desperation, but there was that same electricity that had been there so many years ago, more gentle than before.  There was no hunger behind their kiss, instead it was soft and sweet and contained this tidal wave of emotion that had just been set rushing free after being dammed up for so long in the river of his heart.

 

       And neither of them knew what the kiss had meant, and honestly, neither of them care what the future may hold, for themselves, their careers, their families. All that mattered was now, and now really sucked. But the presence of the other made things a little more bearable.

 

       Finally, after a few soft seconds, Alex pulled away and looked George in his red and bloodshot eyes, looking him up and down in the millimeters  apart from one another. George finally put his knees down, reached up with both arms, and wrapped them around Alex. He buried his head into his chest, and cried.

 

        Alex stayed there, holding him until he didn’t have anything else left to cry.

 

And he stayed there, holding him until they both finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! we are done ! I might want to make this a series, but for now I'm satisfied. I really liked George as a character, and I felt like his exit/death on the show didn't really do him any justice. I've always had this idea in my head that George wasn't really dead, and I was talking to my fellow who said something about witness protection and faking death certificates for the mob or something like that and the idea popped into my brain, in it's murky form. If I can find the time and inspiration I'll add another bonus chapter about the interns- not gonna lie, Levi is my favorite .
> 
> I left this fic opened ended, just in case. Maybe there's hope for the future.
> 
> Thank you for all the views, bookmarks, kudos, and comments though-out the fic! It really inspired me to keep posting. Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think in the comments.
> 
> Goodbye for now and best regards,
> 
> rlb190

**Author's Note:**

> Note: My knowledge of medical stuff on living people is pretty limited. I'm also not sure if this is how the military works but we're going with it.  
>  


End file.
